Don't Forget Me
by battyderp
Summary: Ianto Jones lay dying in the arms of the only person he had ever loved after Lisa was ripped from him. But what passed through his mind?


They say your hearing is the last thing to go when you die. He had never really believed that before; after all, when your heart stops beating, no blood is pumped to your brain and everything would simply switch off. And as Ianto Jones lay dying in the arms of the love of his life, on the hard, cold floor in front of the 456, he briefly wondered if it was true.

He could feel his breathing growing shallower and shallower, and was painfully aware of his heart struggling to keep going. Ianto had always preferred to live in the moment and not worry about the future, but a few times he had caught himself thinking about what it would be like to die. He had thought – well, more like hoped - he would feel pain for just a moment before going numb. But he wasn't that lucky. The infection that coursed through him set his veins on fire, as though lava were streaming through his body.

And yet he paid little attention to it. In fact, he was strangely hopeful, which he thought must have been a rare feeling for everyone else who died. Not because of what he thought may be on the other side; he was too smart to believe in Paradise – that dream had been crushed out of him a long time ago - but he also desperately hoped it wouldn't be like Jack and Suzie had experienced. Pitch-black, all alone, with unseen creatures prowling around you, waiting for the moment you blinked to strike… Or perhaps that was only Hell. He loved Jack more than he loved his own life, but he knew he had done some terrible things, and Suzie, though his friend, had certainly been no saint at the end of her life. Where would Ianto be going?

But, no. He wasn't hopeful for any of those reasons. He was hopeful because he knew he would be leaving the world in capable hands. Because if Captain Jack Harkness said he was going to save the Earth, he was bloody well going to do it. Ianto had total faith in him.

And yet, at that moment, Jack looked so vulnerable, so defeated; even though Ianto's vision was slowly blurring, he could still see that on his face. He knew him too well not to be able to, and yet he didn't know him at all. Ianto wanted nothing more than to make him a coffee – black, no sugar – hug him, and tell him everything would be alright. But Jack would have known he was lying.

Ianto Jones couldn't think of a better way to die, though he could definitely think of a few ways less painful. Just being near Jack sent lightning crackling through him, whether they be kissing or simply talking. And this was no exception. The first time he had met Jack, the feelings that had been stirred inside him were surprising to say the least. He had never looked at another man like that before, but Jack had always been different. He felt special around him, excited, yet at the same time he felt he was… home, for once in his life. He hadn't told his sister about him because he was afraid it wouldn't last, he knew it never could because Jack would continue to live, ageless, long after Ianto died. And the mere thought had hurt him like a bullet never could, a world without Jack. A near impossible thought. But when his sister had discovered his secret, he had had to refrain from raving about Jack like a schoolgirl with a crush.

"Don't forget me," Ianto managed to choke out, trying to force a smile but finding himself unable to muster up the strength. He just hoped everything he felt for the man was expressed in his blue eyes, but he guessed they were already starting to glaze over and well up with unshed tears.

Jack smiled sadly, squeezing one of Ianto's hands with his own, "Never could."

Ianto so desperately wanted to believe that, but, as much as he tried to think otherwise, he couldn't help feeling he was just another meaningless person in Jack's life. Perhaps that came from the feeling of being unloved by his father for all those years, for doubting his place in the world. He acted assured and happy on the exterior, but inside he was just as confused as the next person.

He blinked slowly, shaking his head ever so slightly, "In one thousand years, you won't remember me."

"I will," Jack insisted softly, and Ianto saw a tear roll slowly down his cheek, glistening on his skin in the artificial light, "I promise."

Finally, Ianto was unable to keep his eyes open any longer. They slowly flittered shut and he was just about ready to give up when Jack desperately clasped Ianto's cheeks, running a hand through his dark brown hair, begging him not to leave him. It made Ianto's heart swell; he groggily opened his eyes, waiting a moment for his vision to adjust once more. When they didn't, he settled for staring up at Jack's unclear shape. He wasn't one to panic. Even when he was only able to see his basic form, Ianto caught the flicker of relief that passed over Jack's face, and felt instantly guilty that he would have to leave him. That was just like Ianto, blaming himself for someone else's pain.

He didn't hate the 456 for killing him, but he hated it for leaving Jack alone. But he knew he would never truly be alone, not with Torchwood, even if Gwen was the only part left of it now. Ianto knew that together they would rebuild it; he had always known Jack and Gwen felt a little something for each other, but he had never been angry. A little jealous, yes, but he wasn't the possessive type. Okay, maybe that wasn't completely true, but that was only because everything he had ever loved he had somehow managed to lose._ I guess that has come back for one final blow_, he thought.

He tried to say something, but he was unable to make a sound anymore. So instead he put all his effort into one tiny last movement, something he hoped would calm Jack at least a tiny bit. Now struggling for breath, he pushed all of his remaining, dwindling strength into his right hand, gently, reassuringly squeezing Jack's hand. Jack sucked in a breath and gripped Ianto's hand tightly, as though that could keep him alive.

Ianto swallowed with some difficulty and his blurred gaze swept over every feature on Jack's face; his spiked hair, his lips Ianto had become quite acquainted with, and finally his eyes. He would choose no other person to be the last person he saw before he died. _I love you_, he wanted to say again, _tell Gwen and my family I'll miss them_. _And don't blame yourself_, but his eyes were already beginning to close.

Trying to keep his eyes open for as long as he possibly could, not wanting to be swept into darkness away from Jack, he was eventually forced to close them. He felt deathly cold, but with Jack holding him in his arms, he may as well have been lying on the sun. With one last breath he treasured, Ianto felt his heart beat two more times and then falter, ceasing all together a second later. Jack must have felt that, as he tightened his grip on Ianto, clearly holding back a sob.

Now Ianto couldn't feel him any longer, which terrified him like nothing else. He couldn't see him, smell his familiar, calming scent that he had begun to associate with Torchwood, nothing. The only sense that was still working was his hearing. He listened to his breathing, which was ragged and wrecked by tears he was obviously struggling to contain. Ianto briefly wondered why he was still trying to remain strong, before telling himself that was just who Jack was, and that was why he loved him, even if he had wished countless times he would open up a little more.

Then those sounds were cut off too, and Ianto was left in complete and utter silence, with not even his own breathing to break the quiet. He had never heard anything like it. He knew that in just a few seconds his brain would stop functioning all together and Ianto would have to face whatever was on the other side of life. Or maybe there was nothing. But still he didn't feel any fear; he had learned to keep relatively calm even in life-threatening situations. This was certainly life-threatening.

And do you want to know the last thing Ianto Jones thought of before he could think no longer?

He thought of Jack Harkness, and if he could have smiled, he would have.


End file.
